


Stranger Places Than This

by Theluckiest



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Inquisitor Fenris (Dragon Age), Other, Purple Hawke, Will add tags and warnings as I go, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:28:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theluckiest/pseuds/Theluckiest
Summary: After the Chantry explodes in Kirkwall, Hawke disappears. Varric sends a letter asking her to help the Divine with a Conclave that could end the mage-templar war raging across Thedas. All does not go according to plan. DAI with a few DA2 characters as pretty important people. Title inspired by endgame conversation in DA2. Hawke always keeps her promises.
AU where Cassandra explained why they needed Hawke, and Varric brought her and the broody elf to Haven for the Conclave.





	1. Prologue

“So that’s it. That’s the whole story. Now,” Varric leaned forward in his chair, looking up at the Seeker with a sudden ferocity. “what do you want with Hawke?”

Cassandra fumbled a bit, startled by this rapid change in demeanor. Up to this point, he had cooperated with all the Seeker’s demands, albeit begrudgingly. He had told his story beautifully. It was his favorite after all. But now, he needed her just a bit off-kilter. If she was not quite in control, she was more likely to tell the truth, and he needed the truth. 

“The… Divine is holding a Conclave, a meeting of mages and Templars to stop this war before countless lives are lost. We... believe the Champion can be a unifying voice.”

So that was what they were looking for. A political figure, a mediator. Clearly, they’d never met the woman. This would be a disaster. “Hawke? You think Hawke can calm down a bunch of people shouting at each other about a war half of them think she started?” The humored, lighthearted tone was back as Varric hid his anger and retook the persona of unaffected storyteller, allowing the Seeker to regain her composure.

Her response was firm, even believable. “I believe many people respect her, for her title if nothing else.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “She may be the only person the  
mages will listen to. The Divine is the head of the Chantry. We need someone who is not connected to it or the Templars.”

“Are we talking about the same person? Half the mages in Kirkwall tried to kill us.”

“They were blood mages.”

“True. But will that matter to a bunch of apostates bent on freedom?” Varric watched the Seeker’s reaction carefully. He needed to see how sincere she was. If the Divine really thought Hawke could help, he wouldn’t get in the way. But if this woman was just trying to get ahold of her so the Chantry could hold her accountable for Anders’s actions, well. That wasn’t going to happen.

She made a frustrated, slightly strangled sound, as if she was barely refraining from knocking the smile off his face with her heavy gauntlet. Evidently, she didn’t appreciate her interrogation being turned around. She would have to get over that. Varric wasn’t giving Hawke up without answers.

* * *

Cassandra paused a long moment, thinking over the story she had heard over the last few days. The Champion was the best, and possibly the only, person for this task. Varric needed to know that. It was obvious he cared for his friend’s safety. She needed to convince him he meant her no harm. “The Champion—she is a hero. As a mage, and an apostate, many of the mages will respect her, perhaps more if they believe she was involved in the Chantry explosion.” 

If the dwarf’s story was true, Hawke had nothing to do with the massacre, but few believed that. Few of the mages wanted to believe it. They lauded the Champion as a folk hero, praised her as much as Anders for the dissolution of the Circles.

“However,” Cassandra continued, “she has never taken an open stance against the Chantry, even going so far as to send several apostates to the Circle in Kirkwall.” That had surprised her. To hear of an apostate who recognized the value of a Circle of Magi was incredible. It would have seemed to be selfishness, to send others somewhere you were unwilling to go yourself, if she had not heard the entire story. “She chose to defend the mages against a madwoman, taking on herself the task the Templars failed to do. The Divine believes she may be the only person that will be heard by both sides of this war. Anything that can be done to avoid the loss of more innocent lives is worth the cost, is it not?”

* * *

Varric pondered these words. There was some sense to what she said, and, more importantly, she obviously believed what she was saying. She actually thought Hawke could fix this. Not that Varric was underestimating her. He had seen Hawke confront just about every situation imaginable and come out the other side. The Seeker had developed a serious case of hero worship over the course of this Void-taken interrogation, and she wasn’t a good enough liar for this to be a trick. 

He was sure he would live to regret this, but they needed the Champion. Still, he needed one more assurance.

“If I can find her and get her down here, no one tries to arrest her.”

“Agreed.”

“Or anyone she brings with her.”

Cassandra scoffed. “If she brings that mage, Anders, the people will—”

“I don’t care if she brings an Archdemon, you won’t imprison or attack her or her friends.”

“…Alright, dwarf. She and her companions will remain free and unharmed.”

“Then it looks like I’ve got a letter to write.”


	2. Chapter 2

Marian Hawke arrived at Haven just two days before the Conclave. She stood at the edge of the woods near the small village, observing. It was completely surrounded by walls, likely because of the temple it guarded. Still, she had never seen a place with so few people this well-defended. 

“I am not going in there in broad daylight,” Marian whispered, shrugging back into the relative safety of the woods. “Too many people who know who I am. I don’t care what that Seeker promised, there is no way I’m getting through there without someone trying to kill me.”

Her companion leaned against a tree and chuckled. “Perhaps you have lived in Kirkwall too long.” She smiled over at the elf who had been her constant companion for the last two years. Fenris had fled Kirkwall with her, and they had seen places she’d only heard of in stories. Now, he had come with her to snowy Fereldan, and he was doing a very good job of not looking like he was freezing out here.

“Maybe,” she laughed. “I’ve been attacked by blood mages, corrupt Templars, Qunari, Tal-Vashoth, thugs, slavers, darkspawn….” She ticked them off on her fingers as she spoke. 

“Wow, Kirkwall is a disaster.”

“You have just realized this now?”

“Well, no. But I haven’t been there in months. I forget how awful it is.” She shook her head. How could a city so full of terrible memories still feel like home? “My point was, too many random groups of people have had it out for me. I can’t trust that not one person in this whole village hates me on principle. Especially now that most of Thedas thinks I helped destroy a Chantry full of innocent people.” 

She tried not to think about that. It still made her angry. One of her best friends had lied to her, gone behind her back, and put her in a terrible position. And people blamed her for what had happened.

She was trying to be understanding, to be forgiving. He was possessed, and angry, and truly believed only a great tragedy would help the mages become free. She had made no secret of her belief that mages with no one to guide them needed somewhere safe to learn, and that the Circles filled that role. 

He didn’t feel he could trust her with the truth, that she would have stopped him. And he was right. She had thought through every excuse and reason he could have possibly had for what he did. None of it mattered. No matter the justification, the result was hundreds of deaths. She had known many of the victims. As had Anders.

Hawke groaned internally. This was not the time or place for an angry mental rant. 

Fenris looked thoughtful for a moment. She was sure he knew where her mind had gone, but he didn’t mention it. “You make a good point.”

“This place can’t be as bad as Kirkwall.” Hawke glanced at the village once more, “But we should wait until nightfall.”

“Agreed.”

The pair stalked deeper into the trees, returning to the camp they’d made the night before.

* * * 

It was too cold. Fenris hated this Maker-forsaken country. Tevinter had been warm all year. Kirkwall winters mostly consisted of rain, with the occasional period of freezing cold. On those days, he would wake to a thick coating of ice that caused even the most seasoned Fereldan to slip and slide any time they left their home. 

One year, the ice had been thick enough to freeze Hawke’s door shut. He had slid his way across Hightown to her estate, hoping to spend the day with hot tea and a warm fire and Hawke, to hear a pounding from inside the house. He reached for his sword, only hesitating to draw it at the thought that a slip on the ice may cause his untimely death. As he got closer, he could hear muffled cursing and threats.

“Listen, door. If you don’t open, I’m going to throw a fireball at you, and neither of us wants that.” More pounding and cursing. He had chuckled. She was not in danger after all. Waiting for a lull in the assault, Fenris turned the handle and pulled with all his strength. 

The door broke free and swung open, bringing with it a very startled and very off-balance Hawke. When he went to catch her, they both tumbled to the ice. She gaped at him, and the shocked look on her face sent him over the edge. He burst out laughing. Hawke, indignant, tried to stand and promptly fell back on her ass. He laughed harder, and this time she joined him. By the time they managed to drag themselves inside, they were both breathless.

They had sat thawing in front of the fireplace in her library, both still laughing a little. Fenris finally asked the question that had been on his mind since he first arrived. “Why were you unable to open the door yourself?”

“Not all of us carry around giant, ridiculously heavy swords,” she replied petulantly. She began muttering under her breath, and he swore he heard her say, “…going to learn force magic. That’ll teach the door not to get stuck.” He had chuckled and leaned against her, absorbing the warmth and happiness that seemed to fill every part of him.

He smiled at the memory, looking down at Hawke where she leaned against him. A cold breeze rustled the trees around them, and he shivered. Without warning, a chunk of snow fell from a branch above them onto his head and shoulder, somehow missing Hawke entirely. He stiffened at the sudden cold. Venhedis. This was so much worse than winters in Kirkwall.

After dusting off as much snow as he could without disrupting Hawke's sleep, Fenris ran his hands over her jet-black hair. She had been growing it out since her mother died, and it was now past her shoulders, kept tidy in a low braid. The cold didn’t seem to bother her much, indeed it brightened her cheeks and made her blue eyes sparkle. She looked... at home here, resting against his chest in the clean white snow.

Soon, he would have to wake her, but he allowed himself a moment to simply enjoy the peace. This was probably the last time they would be alone for a while. The village was small. It was unlikely there would be a spare room available to them. Hawke believed this would be a short visit: a few days, a week at most. 

He hoped she was right. But knowing his Hawke, something would give them cause to remain in this place longer than she intended. If nothing happened on its own, the dwarf would likely engineer something. Fenris sighed in resignation.

“Hawke,” he muttered into Marian’s ear. “It is almost time.”

Stretching, then turning and snuggling closer to her lover, she groaned. “Five more minutes. You’re so comfortable.”

He smiled. “I highly doubt that. We are both fully armored.”

He was loath to get up as well, but he knew one of them would have to start tearing down their campsite. As gently as he could, he slipped out from under her, easing her onto his bedroll so she didn’t just fall over.

“All right, all right. I get the message.” She stood, rubbing her arms quickly. “Flames is it cold.” Raising her hand, palm up, she conjured a small fire. “Quick, warm up before it gets dark and I have to put this out. Can’t risk someone seeing us.”

They huddled around the little spot of warmth for a few minutes, then packed up their meager belongings and turned once again toward Haven.

* * *

“Do you think we’ll know anyone here? Besides Varric, obviously,” Hawke asked as they approached the massive doors outside the village. It was now completely dark, and Fenris’s senses were on high alert, listening for any abnormal movement. He would have preferred to use a less conspicuous entrance, but it appeared this was the only one.

“Knowing who we know, I sincerely hope not.”

She hummed in agreement. “You may have a point.” They slipped through the opening. Not a guard in sight. That seemed wrong. “These gates seem really defensible. Shouldn’t there be someone... you know... defending them?”

Fenris silently drew his sword from his back. “This is too easy.”

“Hello,” came a voice from several feet to their left. Hawke spun toward the sound, hand reaching behind her for her staff. The elf peered into the night. Even he could see only a vague shape, a deeper shadow in the surrounding darkness. “I knew you would be here tonight. One of my scouts saw you this morning.” 

Venhedis. He was out of practice. It had been too long since he had truly been in hiding. Until this moment, he had thought that was a good thing.

Marian lit another small fire in her palm, and a woman stepped from the shadows. She wore a purple hood over her red hair and a dress of mail over pants and iron greaves. Her expression was severe, almost scolding. What for? Allowing themselves to be seen? Had she expected more from the Champion of Kirkwall? Well, stealth had never been Hawke’s strong suit.

“Leliana?” Hawke sounded incredulous. “What are you doing here?” Evidently she knew this woman, though Fenris had never seen her.

“The Blight affected us all, Marian. It would have been foolish to allow it to destroy us without trying to stop it, no?” So this was someone Hawke knew from before she came to Kirkwall. It was strange to hear her called Marian. It had taken over a year before she had even told him her first name.

Hawke smiled knowingly. “I heard you had gone off to fight darkspawn with the Warden. I always knew Lothering was too small for you.”

“Be at ease.” Leliana directed this at him, as he was still wielding a sword as tall as himself. He hesitated for a moment, then, wordlessly, he replaced it on his back. He did not need a weapon to kill this woman, if it came to that. Hopefully, it would not. Hawke had few friends from her childhood.

Now that he could see her better, it was obvious she was a woman of power. She held herself almost straight, as though she had been trained as a noble but forced herself to look more relaxed. Her accent was Orlesian. Perhaps she was a bard? Fenris tensed a little at the thought. Even if she now worked for the Divine, he knew better than to trust a spy, no matter Hawke’s faith in her. 

“I think introductions are in order.” Hawke whispered, not wanting to alert anyone else to their presence. That was becoming more common these days, Fenris thought sadly. He wished they could stop running and live a life free of slavers and Grey Wardens and red lyrium—a life where Marian could be as loud and lively as she wished. So much caution was beginning to wear on her. 

Perhaps a success at this Conclave would allow them to live more openly, without fear of retribution for a crime they did not commit.

“Leliana, this is...”

The redhead cut in. “I know who you are. It is unwise to speak those names aloud. If you would follow me, you are wanted in the Chantry.”

With that, she turned on her heel and headed for a massive set of doors. Hawke followed immediately, while Fenris cast his eyes the other direction, checking for onlookers before following them both through the small door that had opened within the larger ones.

“Hawke! Broody!” Varric ran across the cavernous room they had entered as fast as his short legs could carry him. Marian leaned down to hug the dwarf, and he let out a small yelp when she squeezed just a bit too tight. “Alright, alright. I missed you, too. Now let me go.”

* * *

Maker, it was good to see that dwarf again. Of all the people she’d met in Kirkwall, Varric was probably her best friend next to Fenris. It had been almost a year since they had separated to keep the Templars following as many wild geese as possible. Still, she kept him apprised of her location wherever they went. Mostly it had been little villages, hunting slavers or helping their new Warden friend. Hearing Varric’s cry, Marian realized she was probably embracing him too tightly. She laughed and released him.

“Good to see this cold hasn’t trumped your love for your chest hair.” The shirt he wore now exposed even more of his chest than the ones he used to wear in Kirkwall, if that were even possible.

Varric laughed. “Hawke,” he chastised, “you should know by now that nothing will beat that.”

“Not even Bianca?” she asked slyly. He narrowed his eyes at her.

Fenris stepped toward the dwarf and extended a hand, cutting off his retort. Well that was no fun at all. Varric accepted with a broad smile. “I’m glad to see you, elf.”

“And I you, dwarf,” he chuckled.

“Hey, Seeker, you ok?” Varric called over his shoulder at the woman who, so far, had not moved. She was staring at Marian with an awe that, frankly, made her a little uncomfortable. 

The ‘Champion of Kirkwall’ often inspired one of two emotions: outright hatred, or this—this amazement that bordered on reverence. Hawke hated it. She was not some legendary figure. She was just a woman who had done what was necessary to get by. And lost a lot in the process. 

Well, best to simply ignore it. Soon enough, this Seeker would see how everything Hawke touched fell apart, and the hero worship would fade.

Approaching the woman, who would have been imposing if not for the dazed look on her face, Marian held out a hand. “You’re Seeker Cassandra, right? Varric’s letter mentioned you.”

The Seeker visibly shook herself out of her trance and took the Champion’s hand, her voice not quite steady. “I am sure nothing he said was good, but it is an honor to meet you nonetheless. I have heard your story, and I find you to be quite an inspiration.” She blushed a deep red as her hand dropped from Hawke’s, realizing she had held on too long.

Hawke had to chuckle a little at that. An inspiration. What would people think of next? “Well, I suppose that’s better than ‘best friend to a lunatic mass-murderer’.”

“Yes.” Fenris looked at Hawke with barely concealed laughter. “Although you may want to refrain from the behaviors she tends to inspire. I do not think you would be useful to the Divine passed out drunk on the floor.” Marian stuck her tongue out at her lover, who simply ignored her and extended a hand to the Seeker. “It is always refreshing to meet someone who has not decided to hate Hawke on hearsay alone.”

“You have your storyteller to thank for that,” Cassandra muttered, seeming a little embarrassed. Ah. So she was a late convert to the Champion-worship. She took a deep breath, straightened up a little, and when she looked back at Hawke she was composed, her voice even. “It is late. We should turn in for the evening. The Divine will meet with you tomorrow. A bed has been prepared for you, although you must share the room. We do not have any that are unoccupied.”

“Or, if you want, the tent next to mine is free,” Varric interjected. “It’s not a real bed, but you can’t beat the neighbors.” He chuckled. “Seriously, don’t beat the neighbor. I’ve had a long month.”

Hawke truly laughed for the first time that day. She glanced at Fenris, who nodded in reply. Good. She would rather have their own space near a friend than share with strangers. It’s not as if they weren’t used to tents by now. “Alright, Varric. We’ll sleep on the cold, hard ground just for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really quick update because I already had this chapter done. I'm not actually sure how long this will take me, but I'll figure out a posting schedule once I know what's realistic. This is my first multi-chapter fic, so any comments/advice on how to improve is much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke sat on a low, wooden bench in the hall beneath Haven’s Chantry, head in her hands. Their most recent fight to hold back the demons had not gone well. Not that Hawke had expected it to be all that successful in the first place. At least they had pushed them back beyond the gates, into the valley.

She heard a groan through the heavy dungeon door, snapping her back to the present. Fenris. He was hurt. There was some weird thing on his hand, and he’d been unconscious since the Conclave had gone up. For some absurd reason, he was also imprisoned. She thought back to the argument she had had with Cassandra.

Hawke had recovered quickly from her rather minor injuries to find her lover unconscious in a prison cell. She had demanded to be let in to see him, but the Seeker had denied her.

“Why is he even in there? He should be in a bed, healing. He’s done nothing wrong!”

The woman stared Hawke down. “He is a suspect. The people demand an explanation for what happened at the Conclave. The two of you were the only survivors.”

“So you’re locking up an innocent to keep people from rioting?” Hawke exploded, “That’s dangerously close to the way Meredith reacted after she went completely crazy! Why am I not in the cell, too, if that’s your reason?”

Cassandra had flinched a little at that, then her expression had softened. “I do not believe he is guilty, but I do not have the power to shield both of you. You are the Champion. The people respect you. It was easier to protect you than your companion. He also bears the mark, and we do not know what that means.”

Hawke knit her fingers in her hair and let out a frustrated noise. “No one knows what that means. We’re the only ones who would know—well, us and whoever actually did this.” She spat out the last words like acid on her tongue. “But I can’t remember a thing and Fenris is out cold. 

“And ‘the people’ don’t respect me. They hate me, because they think I’ve killed innocent people to protect mages.”

The Seeker blanched at the reminder of Hawke’s connection to the explosion, but did not respond to her comment. “I cannot free him, at least not until he wakes and we hear his explanation. When that happens, we will be taking him to see if his Mark can close these rifts as Solas suspects.”

The memory faded as Hawke resurfaced into conscious thought.

The rifts. Those weird, green tears in the Veil. They felt…wrong. When she was near one, she could hear the demons calling to her, louder than in her dreams, even when they weren’t pouring out of the Fade into the waking world. 

She reached idly for her staff, examining the new scar in the wood, put there by a long-limbed green monster she had never seen before today, but the others called a terror. The name fit. Maker, she hoped that bald hedge mage was right, much as she didn’t want Fenris to be forced to deal with this.

Solas was odd, and his arrival a little too convenient. He had come to Haven while she slept the first day after the Conclave, claiming to know about the magic that had caused the huge breach in the sky. 

Since then, she had simply watched as he had studied Fenris and the new Mark on his hand. His fascination bordering on excitement made her uncomfortable. She wondered if this was how people had looked at Fenris when he was a slave, on display for all to see. 

Despite all her doubts, she couldn’t truly dislike the mage. He had kept Fenris alive, or rather, taught her how to. The healing magic required was unlike any she had ever done, but Fen didn’t like for others to heal him, so she learned fast. 

Selfishly, she liked that healing him gave her the chance to check his progress. He was a quick mender, she knew, but this was a different kind of wound. It felt like the green scar on his hand was connected to his soul, not his skin. He would be really, really angry.

Hawke sighed. She hoped he would wake soon.

* * *

The first thing Fenris noticed was pain. It ran along his entire right side, in both wrists, and in his…left hand? That was odd. 

He woke to find himself lying on his side, on the floor of what appeared to be a dungeon, bound. That explained most of his discomfort. He stood and activated his lyrium markings to slip his manacles, only to fall to his knees as excruciating pain shot up his left arm.

“Fenris?!” He heard Hawke shout from what seemed a great distance. With a monumental effort, he stilled the lyrium inside him, and the pain receded somewhat. Venhedis. He was stuck in these shackles. 

“I am alright,” he called back to her, voice rough with lack of use. How long had he been here?

Looking down at his left hand, he understood the pain. There was a green scar across his palm, and it was…glowing. Wonderful. More magic.

Fenris took stock of his surroundings. He was not even in a cell, simply sitting in the middle of the large room. Something was happening on the other side of the door that must be the entrance. “Let me in! He’s awake, and I need to see him! I’m his healer!” Hawke was yelling at guards who had evidently elected to ignore her. 

It was brave of them, and foolish. Trying to prevent Hawke from doing anything was a lost cause. He chuckled, despite the pain, and shook his head. At least she appeared unharmed.

Good. She was safe, even after all that had happened. What had happened? He remembered arriving at the Conclave. Hawke had been more nervous than he had seen her in years.  
“You look as though you are preparing to fight the Arishok,” Fenris had teased her.

“Right now, I think I would prefer the Arishok.” Hawke glanced nervously up at the head of their column of soldiers, where the Divine walked. “How am I supposed to get the mages and Templars to agree on anything? Especially the Circles.”

He chuckled. “I am sure you will think of something. You always do.” She had nodded vaguely, lost in thought.

After that, nothing. Until pain, and bright light. Bright…green…light? What had that been?

He was shaken from his thoughts by the door opening. The Seeker entered, hands clasped on the pommel of the sword at her side, followed by Leliana. Through the doorway he could see two guards blocking Hawke’s entrance into the room as she alternated between glaring at them and trying to see him over Cassandra’s shoulder. 

Since she was not beating down the door, he assumed he was relatively safe. Still, the looks she was directing at the guards were blood-curdling. The one he could see was wide-eyed with fear. Good. At least he had some sense.

The door shut solidly behind the two women. “Good, you are awake. Now tell me, what happened at the Conclave?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, “It was destroyed. Everyone is dead. Except for the two of you.” Cassandra jerked her head in Hawke’s direction.

“How?” How could they all have died? There had been so many.

“There was an explosion. Now, there is a hole in the sky! Do you really expect me to believe you know nothing of this?” She was yelling now.

“I do not remember.” Her anger surprised him, although he supposed it should not have, given his current situation. 

“Explain this!” The Seeker grabbed his shackles, lifting his left hand. His markings flared, and he again cried out in pain before slowly, with even more effort than before, he managed to calm them.

Fenris grit his teeth and looked up at Cassandra where she loomed over him, her face a mixture of rage and what looked suspiciously like concern. “It is more painful when my markings are active. That is all I know about it.”

Leliana finally stepped in, pulling Cassandra back and giving Fenris some space to breathe. How could they think he knew anything about this? Why would he massacre innocents?  
“Is there anything you do remember from the Conclave?” Leliana this time, speaking considerably more gently than Cassandra had.

A blurred memory had surfaced sometime since he had awoken, though he was uncertain of its accuracy. “Running. We were pursued. There was... a woman. Besides Hawke.”  
Leliana’s eyebrows rose at that, but did not look surprised. Probably, Hawke had remembered much the same thing.

The two had a brief conversation that Fenris ignored in favor of checking his body for injuries. It appeared he had none besides the mark. Hawke had said she was his healer. He was glad of it. She knew how he hated to feel the magic of strangers. Indeed, it was probably why he felt so himself even with the new magic he could feel emanating from his hand. 

He looked up to see Hawke rushing across the room to him. He had not noticed the door opening. She knelt at his side, angrily yelling over her shoulder for someone to unbind him. She reached for his hands, and he felt a cool breeze wash over him.

“Hawke. That is appreciated, but unnecessary. I am not in much pain.”

“Oh. Good.” The magic faded. His love gazed at him thoughtfully as a guard reached down to unlock his shackles. “It hurts a lot when your markings light up, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, wincing a little at the memory of pain.

“I wondered if that would happen. That mark thing feels connected to you the same way your lyrium does. Like it’s a part of you. I don’t know if I can get rid of it. I also don’t have a solution for the pain. I’m afraid you’ll just have to stop using your markings for now. I know that’s terrible, but maybe Solas will have an idea. Oh, Solas is a mage that showed up here after—“

“Hawke.” Fenris cut off her babbling, cupping her chin with a now free hand. He loved how excited she could be about, well, everything, but he needed to know. “Are you alright?”  
She laughed softly. “You’re worried about me? I’m not the one who was unconscious for three days.” Three days? That explained the discomfort he had felt upon waking.

At his pointed look, she sighed. “I’m fine. I was a little scraped up, but nothing a bit of healing couldn’t fix. I’m more concerned about you.” His hand came up to touch her cheek. She looked up at him, eyes meeting his, and he carefully examined her face. She looked a bit tired, but unharmed. 

He wondered if she had been sleeping well. Somehow, he didn’t think living through another explosion would help her nightmares. She caught his look and smiled softly. He always seemed to forget the world around them when she looked at him like that.

As usual, Fenris found himself smiling back without thinking. Here was his Hawke, his Marian, safe against all odds yet again. He was overwhelmed by a sudden gratitude that her ability to find trouble was paired with an ability to survive it.

He leaned toward her, lips barely brushing hers. Cassandra made a surprised sound from across the room, and he was jolted back to reality. Hawke laughed as he startled, sitting bolt upright. 

The Seeker cleared her throat, then her expression turned stern. “As touching as this reunion is, we must get you both to the rift.”

Hawke grinned deviously. “But Cassandra, I heard you liked the romantic parts of Varric’s story. He said you were, what word did he use...? ‘Entranced’ by some of the steamier scenes.” 

The warrior spluttered, then glanced down and looked away, embarrassed. Fenris laughed. Some of those tales were a bit embellished. He wondered exactly what Varric had written about their relationship to make a Seeker blush so strongly. Staring a fixed point on the wall rather than them, she insisted, “We have work to do.”

Hawke looked back at Fenris wistfully. “She’s right. Solas—he showed up the day after the explosion—thinks that mark will help us close the tears in the Veil.” Seeing his confused look, she added, “It’ll be easier to show you.”

She stood and held her hands out to him. Only then did he realize he had been on his knees since he had awoken. He reached for her and stood, slowly and painfully.   
Pausing for a moment to shake out his numb feet, he looked around the room in earnest. His sword was leaning against the wall by the door, none the worse for wear. Hmph. They must think very little of his ability to escape if they simply left his weapon in his prison cell.

Hawke noticed where his gaze had fallen and reached for his sword, dragging it heavily across the floor. Fenris sighed and shook his head at her. “You will dull the edge doing that.” He took it from her, smirking as he hefted it onto his back with ease. She scowled at him as they left the cell and entered a hallway lit only with braziers. He laughed, and her frown broke into a radiant smile.

Leaning toward him conspiratorially, she stage-whispered, “I snuck it in here yesterday. I don’t think the Seeker even noticed. Leliana did, but she left it. Probably because she knows you’re innocent, too.”

Oh. Well that was another reason his sword had been there, one he had not considered. But if they thought he was innocent...

“Why imprison someone who you do not believe is guilty?” He directed this question at the Seeker, who was several paces ahead of them at this point. She stiffened, but did not slow or turn toward them.

“What happened at the Conclave is not known. As the only survivors, you and Hawke were the—“

Hawke interrupted, sending Cassandra an angry look. “They were afraid people would revolt if they didn’t point the finger at someone. Since I’m ‘The Champion of Kirkwall’, blah, blah, blah, they pointed at you.”

Fenris narrowed his eyes at the Seeker, who cleared her throat nervously and redoubled her pace. “That sounds familiar.”

“You mean like a certain red-lyrium-addled Knight-Commander? Yeah, I told her.”

Before he could respond, they passed through the doors of the Chantry, and Fenris stopped short. The entire sky glowed an eerie green. The same green he remembered from the Conclave. The same green that was now slashed across his hand. 

And there, where the Temple had stood, appeared to be a hole in the sky. He felt a strange tug on his lyrium. “What...?”

“It’s a huge tear in the veil. There are other rifts, too, but smaller. They feel... strange.”

Cassandra looked at the sky as she added, “We call it the Breach, and it grows larger with each passing hour.”

An explosion that left holes in the veil? There was only one explanation. “Magic.” This must have been a very powerful spell to cause such damage.

All at once, the hole in the sky seemed to expand. In an instant, Fenris was on the ground in agonizing pain. Hawke reached out and immediately cast her soothing magic over him, dulling the pain as best she could. 

Cassandra seemed genuinely concerned. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads... and it is killing you.”

How delightful. Yet another attack on his life courtesy of magic. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if they found that a magister was responsible for this. If not a magister, perhaps a rebel mage. Many did not want the peace talks to succeed. Destroying the Conclave would certainly prevent peace.

Rising to his feet, Fenris glared at the Seeker before him. “What do you expect me to do?”

It was Hawke who responded, rather nervously, “We think that mark may be able to close the Breach.” She shrugged, but he could read the anxiety in her tense shoulders. “It’s our only shot.”

He sighed. No choice, then. For a moment, he wondered if this was how Hawke felt when had been asked to do insane things to protect Kirkwall. Slowly, he nodded his assent. She sagged a little, letting some of the tension out of her shoulders; she seemed both relieved and concerned. 

He knew from experience the concern was for his safety. It was still a little strange. No one had ever worried for him before Kirkwall. Now, he had friends who cared for his well-being, and, as he had realized with a shock after a particularly difficult battle, he cared for theirs. Whatever this mark was, he hoped it would stop this madness. He didn’t particularly want to die.

“Then…?” Cassandra stared hopefully. Perhaps she had not expected his assistance.

“I will do what I can.”

With that, they were off again. As they made their way across Haven, Fenris noted the looks cast their way: respect and admiration for the Seeker, awe for the Champion, and fear and hatred for the prisoner. He was no longer bound, but it was clear the people knew he had been blamed for this horrific attack.

As they passed through the massive gates and left the village, Hawke spoke casually, too loud to be for his ears only. “Personally, I don't think they would have accused you if their ‘benevolent leaders’ hadn't locked you up.”

He smiled at her faith in people. No matter how often she was proved wrong, she chose to believe the best. “I am a former slave of a land ruled by mages. This was clearly a magical attack. Why would they not accuse me?” 

It seemed that people would always place blame rather than accept the unknown. They could not stand to know something bad had happened, but not who had caused it. It was why Hawke was blamed for the Chantry explosion.

“Hmm.” Hawke hummed. Clearly she was still angry at Cassandra, but was unwilling to debate with him. She kept bouncing up onto the balls of her feet to look ahead. Meanwhile, Fenris could not tear his eyes away from the Breach.

“How did we survive?”

She glanced ahead to the Seeker, but Cassandra didn’t comment. “I don’t remember anything either, but apparently we walked out of a rift and passed out. I remember a strange woman, but that’s all. It fits what people are saying, too. Supposedly there was a woman behind us.”

“Everything else in the valley was laid waste.” The Seeker’s voice was strained and rough with emotion. “Including the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

“Uhh... Hawke?” he asked, suddenly nervous, “Where are we going?” He did not wish to return to the temple if it was not necessary.

This time it was Cassandra who interjected. “Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.” That was not a particularly helpful answer.

Before he could inquire further, they came to a bridge littered with rubble and soldiers, many of whom had died in the fighting. As they approached yet another set of large doors on the other side of the bridge, Cassandra called out, “Open the gate! We are headed into the valley!”


	4. Chapter 4

Varric was ass-deep in demons, firing bolt after bolt as they swarmed him. He gradually made his way over to the mage on the other side of the battle. 

“They just keep coming! What are we gonna do if Broody can’t close these things?”

“I do not know,” Solas replied curtly as he froze the last shade on the field solid. Varric shot it, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The mage leaned on his staff, catching his breath. “Finally, a reprieve. We must hope your friend’s mark can close the rifts. Otherwise, I fear all of Thedas will fall to demons.”

As if on cue, the rift in front of them pulsed with eerie light, and more demons rose from the ground. Well, shit. Varric loaded a bolt into Bianca and pointed her toward a rage demon. “Here we go again.”

Between Solas’s ice magic and Bianca, the rage demon went down quickly, leaving them with several shades to fight. Varric was starting to run out of bolts, so he started making his way across the battlefield to pick up those that had fallen to the ground. 

He leveled Bianca at a shade, hoping to at least distract it enough to get to some bolts a few feet to his right. It was engulfed in a fireball before he could pull the trigger.  
A grin broke across Varric’s face as he looked over his shoulder at his friends. “Nice of you to join us! It was starting to get boring out here!”

Hawke laughed as she shot a lightning bolt at another shade. From beside her, Broody and Cassandra charged two more. They made quick work of the remaining demons.

As the last shades crumpled and were pulled back to the Fade, Solas rushed to Fenris’s side. “Quickly,” he yelled, “before more come through!” He grabbed the marked hand and lifted it toward the rift. A wavering beam of light reached between Fenris and the rift, and the elf’s lyrium markings lit up, a bright, sickly green rather than their usual blue.

The rift snapped closed with a loud crack. Solas smirked at it proudly. The others just gaped at Fenris.

“What the...” Hawke trailed off.

Varric tried next. “That was... a sight,” he managed.

“It must have been, to render speechless two of the most talkative people in Thedas.” Despite the humor in his words, Fenris sounded detached, as if the response was automatic. He was staring hard at his hand as if it had betrayed him in some way.

Shaking himself out of his shocked stupor, Varric looked at the others. Cassandra seemed awed. She had never seen the lyrium in action before. He didn’t blame her. Everyone was a little amazed their first time, and this was more impressive than most.

Solas had finally turned his attention away from the sealed rift to Fenris. “That was quite remarkable. I had wondered how the mark would interact with the lyrium in your skin. It seems they interact well, a fortunate outcome.”

Varric shook his head. On the bright side, Broody could close the rifts. But of all the people in Thedas to get stuck with a glowing magical hand that somehow connects to the Fade, it had to be Fenris. He had hated magic for as long as Varric had known him. Hawke had helped with that a lot, but judging from the look on his face, the feeling was back in full force. He would have to remember not to get too close to the elf when there were mages around.

* * *

“What is this?” Fenris shook his hand angrily at the apostate.

Solas took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for an assault. That was probably wise. “Whatever magic created the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand.”

“So you decided to throw me at one of these rifts and hope that it would close?” Why did mages continue to use him for their own ends with no regard for his person? Was Hawke the only good mage in existence? She had at least told him what they planned to do.

“It seems I was correct.” The mage was insufferable. He did not appear repentant for his behavior, and was looking at Fenris’ markings curiously. It felt different than when the magisters had ogled him. Solas did not look at him with jealousy and a desire for ownership. Instead he looked at the lyrium lines with pity, an excessive amount of interest, and what almost felt like recognition.

“Your lyrium markings are fascinating. From what Hawke has told me, that was an unusual reaction.”

Fenris glanced at Hawke, who shot him an apologetic look. “Yes,” he replied tersely.

“I admit to some curiosity. Would you be willing to activate them?”

Gritting his teeth, Fenris spat out a “no”. Using his markings was uncomfortable on good days, but now... No. Even if they were not painful, he would not put himself on display. He was not some pet to be paraded at will. 

Sending him another apologetic look, Hawke spoke up. “The mark is interfering with them somehow. Nothing I can do will help him.” Of course she had to tell him. She didn’t mean anything by it. She wanted to help. It was still frustrating. 

He didn’t want this stranger to know that he had a weakness, temporary though it may be. Especially this stranger who knew a bit too much about what was happening. It was odd that he had appeared so quickly after the explosion.

Solas, who had been animatedly discussing something, presumably Fenris, with Hawke, suddenly turned to him. “I may be able to help.” He reached out a hand toward Fenris, who flinched away. “May I?”

Fenris turned to Hawke, who nodded at him encouragingly. If she thought it was safe... and killing demons would be much easier with his markings functioning properly. He nodded begrudgingly. Solas set his extended hand on Fenris’ left shoulder. A wave of healing magic poured over him. He scowled. It was always strange to feel new magic on him, but this was even stranger than usual.

Every mage’s power felt different. Hawke’s magic was a gentle, warm breeze that soothed him all the way through. Anders’ had been sharp, bright, like brandy poured over a wound. It was unpleasant but effective. Danarius’ had felt almost oily, slick with deceit and blood magic. Thankfully, Merrill was not a healer. He never wanted to feel blood magic on him again. 

Solas’ magic felt... old. There was no other way to describe it. It was like wind moving through grass that no longer existed, with an unbearable sense of longing. Like a cool spring day that you remember but can never get back.

The magic stopped, and he looked at the mage suspiciously. Something flickered in Solas’ eyes—some strange awareness—then it was gone, replaced by a smooth mask of professional curiosity. 

“Well?” Hawke asked. She looked at him hopefully. “Did that help?”

Fenris took a deep breath and willed his markings to life. He felt the sharp prickle of the lyrium in his skin, thrumming through him like the blood in his veins. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and opened his eyes. He hadn’t realized he had closed them. Cassandra was staring at him open-mouthed. “Yes, well...” Fenris deactivated the lyrium and shook himself a little. “It seems that worked.”

He risked a glance at the strange mage, afraid of what he would see there. He looked curious, and impressed, but he didn’t have the hungry look in his eye that Fenris had come to expect from mages who used unusual magic. He looked almost sad. Begrudgingly, Fenris had to admit that the mage had helped him.

“Er... thank you.” Solas nodded. They stood there awkwardly, neither one speaking, for what felt an unbearably long time.

“So...,” Hawke dragged out the word. “What now?”

Cassandra spoke for the first time since Fenris had closed the rift. “Now, we go to the Breach.”

Varric wandered over to a small pile of crossbow bolts and put them back in the quiver on his hip, inspecting each one carefully. “Sounds great,” he said, tossing one aside with a scoff.

“Absolutely not.” Cassandra was clearly unwilling to bring Varric with them, despite his expertise at fighting demons. Varric would object. Fenris knew him well enough to know he would never let his friends go off to fight without him. 

Fortunately, Hawke jumped in to defend her friend before he could release whatever snarky comment he had been thinking. “I know you two have issues, but Varric is the best archer I know” She straightened suddenly and turned to Varric quickly with a slightly panicked look on her face. “Don’t tell Sebastian.”

“Oh, I’m definitely telling him,” Varric smirked back. 

She groaned and dragged her hand down her face. “Anyway...” Hawke turned her attention back to Cassandra, who was looking at her as if this proved her point. Clearly, she did not know Hawke. “Despite his tendency to make everyone he’s ever met want to kill him, I want him with us.” When the Seeker still didn’t look phased, Hawke played her final card. “This isn’t really your decision.” With that, she turned to look expectantly at Fenris.

He cleared his throat anxiously. “You want me to decide?” It’s not that this was a difficult decision. Of course the dwarf was coming. He had no qualms about making a choice, but this was not their usual paradigm. Hawke made the major decisions, and Fenris helped her carry out whatever she had decided. As far as he knew, Hawke didn’t resent the relative ease of his role, and he certainly didn’t envy hers.

It was Cassandra that replied. “You are the one with the mark. You are the one we must get to the Breach safely.”

“Varric comes with us.” Fenris turned to follow Hawke toward a path through the rubble around them. He heard the others fall in behind them. If he was to be making decisions now, he supposed this at least was an easy one, and was grateful for it.

* * *

As they walked through the large gates onto a wide stone bridge, Hawke thought over the last half hour. Fenris had used the mark on his hand to close another rift, and had collapsed in pain once more as the Breach expanded. 

On the upside, there was now a slim chance they could save the world before it was torn apart and ravaged by demons. But now Fenris had been marked by magic yet again, and it looked permanent. 

For one selfish moment, Hawke felt pity for herself. It had taken years to overcome Fenris’ hatred of magic. Would this undo everything they had worked toward? Would he hate her because she had somehow evaded whatever had caused the mark? Would he... No. Fenris was not so easily swayed, and this was not about her. 

The group was approaching Leliana and that annoying Chantry brother. They were arguing about something. Hawke didn’t care about what. She was wondering about that second question, as she had for days now. Why not her? How had she escaped unscathed? She would have gladly carried that thing, if it meant Fenris didn’t have to. 

She was snapped out of her pondering by Fenris’ voice. It seemed he had been paying attention. She looked at the ground and blushed. She was usually pretty good at listening to other people’s problems. Varric gave her an odd look, and she shook her head minutely, trying to tell him she was okay. 

As she tuned back into the conversation, Cassandra and Leliana were debating which way to go to get to the temple. The Seeker demanded they charge through the valley, while Leliana wanted to take a path through the mountains. Apparently, some scouts had gone missing up there. Fenris was once again called upon to make a choice. This one was much harder than the last, and it showed on his face as he thought it through.

“We will... take the path through the mountains.” 

Leliana nodded sharply and turned to give orders to a group of runners nearby. Cassandra huffed, but nodded her head and led them toward a snowy hill. Maybe they could save those missing soldiers. She smiled to herself. It was exactly what she would have chosen.

Fenris slowed his pace to join her, and they walked side by side up the embankment. He looked worried. She gave him a reassuring smile and reached out to take his gauntleted hand in her own. He squeezed it gently and smiled back at her.

Their tender moment was cut short by a wave of demons. With a battle cry, Fenris released her hand and charged toward them, sword held high. They fought their way through some kind of old mine, eventually emerging to find several soldiers. Well, the bodies of several soldiers.

“That cannot be all of them.” Cassandra sounded aghast, and more hopeful than certain. 

“Maybe we’ll find some up ahead.” Hawke tried to sound confident. Based on the look she got from Fenris, she had not succeeded.

Solas spoke for the first time since they had closed the first rift. “Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.” Pragmatism. Ugh.

“I’m leaving that to Broody here,” Varric rejoined. “Maker knows no one else can do it.”

A few minutes later, they reached a clearing to find a group of soldiers cluttered around a rift, battling a swarm of demons. They looked exhausted. Evidently, they’d been at this a while. 

Everyone leapt into battle, Hawke using her force magic to pull several demons together so Fenris could cut them all down at once. Solas froze a shade solid, and Varric shattered it with a bolt from Bianca.

The rift pulsated, and two terrors—Hawke’s least favorite kind of demon—sprang up from the ground. This was where their weaknesses started to show. Hawke, Fenris, and Varric worked like a well-oiled machine, but the addition of new people threw everything off a little bit. They hadn’t fought together long enough to know what the others would do, which led to some clunky fighting.

Once, Hawke set one of the demons on fire just in time for Solas to send ice at it, putting out the flames. Cassandra charged at one, only to draw up short and nearly trip to avoid Fenris coming from a different direction. All told, the demons were put down, but it took far longer than it should have, and there were some minor injuries that had to be healed.

Fenris closed the rift, his whole body glowing green again and his face contorting with pain. Maker, she hoped it wouldn’t hurt once they closed the Breach. Of course, Solas had pointed out that there may not be any need to worry about that, as it could kill him, but Hawke had elected to ignore that advice.

The soldiers thanked Fenris profusely for saving them. Following Cassandra’s advice, they made a hasty retreat toward the tunnel. Their small party pressed on.

They were close now. Hawke could feel the energy still present from the blast. She was not looking forward to seeing what was left of the temple.

Varric stared up at the sky as they walked. “So... holes in the Fade don’t just accidentally happen, right?” Hawke snorted.

Solas looked at her reproachfully. “If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible.”

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

“I don’t know, Varric,” Hawke said, “Do you remember that elf who tried to blow up Kirkwall with that poison she thought was gaat-... gaat-lerk...”

“Gaat-lok,” Fenris groaned. “I thought we agreed you would stop trying to speak Qunlat.” Hawke stuck her tongue out at him.

“We can’t all speak four languages. Anyway, my point is, it’s not always that easy. Sometimes, you try to blow something up, and all you get is a lot of crazy people chasing us with kitchen knives.”

Cassandra made a sound of disgust, clearly not amused by Hawke’s story, but Solas looked curious. Varric noticed, of course. He could always tell when someone was interested in a story. “I’ll tell you all about it some time. Right now, I think we’re about to be busy.”

He was right. Just as he finished speaking, they rounded a corner and caught sight of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly difficult to write. I started back at school last week, so I haven't had as much time to write as I would like. I'm going to try to do at least 2 chapters a month, hopefully more.
> 
> Next chapter is the Temple of Sacred Ashes, and my first real fight scene if I don't chicken out. The pacing will pick up after that. I promise this won't be a 100-chapter long, insanely detailed description of the game. That would be boring.
> 
> Thank you to all of the people who have read this and decided it was worth a kudos or a comment (someone even subscribed, yay!). I didn't know anyone would like this, so it's been a pleasant surprise.


	5. Chapter 5

The temple was a pile of rubble, bodies trapped in positions of pain and terror, still burning even after three days. Only his desire not to show weakness prevented Fenris from losing the meager contents of his stomach. He had seen horrors before, and they played in his mind now. 

A slave being drained of every drop of blood to provide power for his master. 

The bodies of Fog Warriors littering the floor of Seheron’s jungle. 

Undead rising from Sundermount, wielding swords with hands no longer protected by flesh. 

A bright red beam and the sounds of screaming as the Chantry was destroyed.

This was worse than all of them. The air smelled of burning flesh, and the ground was littered with huge chunks of stone. Every step left a print in the ash that lay over everything in a thick layer. Fenris frowned in distaste. He was finally grateful for the boots Hawke had forced upon him.

“This is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you.” Cassandra’s voice was quiet, reverent, as if speaking too harshly would disturb the bodies around them.

Fenris forced himself to look away from the scene before him and follow the others toward the center of the temple. The Breach loomed, seeming to devour the sky as they watched. How was he to fix that monstrosity? It was far above his reach.

He turned from the sight to find Leliana and a small number of soldiers entering the temple behind them. Wordlessly, they moved to take up positions around the area. This had clearly been planned. Cassandra turned to him, jaw tense. 

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

Fenris gave a sharp nod. “Just tell me what to do.” He could feel Hawke trembling beside him. When he glanced at her, she made a valiant effort to look confident and reassuring. Were he less familiar with her moods and expressions, she may have even convinced him.

“This rift was the first. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Solas said, indicating the rip in the Veil in front of them. Fenris narrowed his eyes at the mage. Here was yet another theory that required the risking of his life. Well, there was nothing for it. It must be done.

They moved toward the rift, and a deep voice boomed out of seemingly nowhere. It filled the entire space, as though resounding from walls that no longer stood.

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Cassandra looked around frantically, as if expecting a figure to emerge from any direction. “What are we hearing?”

“At a guess, the person who created the Breach,” Solas said. At first glance, Fenris thought he was far too calm, but a closer look showed hands that twisted on his staff grip. He was as nervous as the rest of them.

Hawke frowned up at the hole in the sky. “Well, he sounds hideous.”

She would make jokes at a time like this. Fenris chuckled despite the worry that had been growing in him since they entered the temple. There was a chance he would not walk away from this. 

He did not wish to die, but one glance at Marian restored his resolve. If he failed, she would perish, along with the rest of Thedas. She had certainly risked her life for her friends and her city. He could do no less for his world.

Fenris’ ears pricked up suddenly. What was that sou—no. It couldn’t be. Not here. He looked around at the others. They hadn’t noticed yet, which confirmed his suspicions. The sickly song was all too familiar.

“Walk carefully. There is red lyrium ahead.” Although he did not prefer to be the bearer of ill news, they needed to know.

“What? Why would it be here?” Hawke’s words were casual, but her voice was tight. She was afraid. With good reason. Red lyrium had brought them nothing but suffering.

“I hear its song. I do not read its mind.” He was aware that he was being rude, but the song was so grating. It gave him a headache after mere moments. He could feel it calling out to his markings and shrank down into himself, staying as far away as possible as they walked past it.

“How could you read the mind of something that is not alive?”

Varric shook his head sadly. “Seeker. Point. Missing it.”

They hadn’t even completely come past the mysterious lyrium when the voice boomed out again.

“Hold the sacrifice still.”

“Someone, help me!”

Cassandra blinked up at the sky. “That was Divine Justinia’s voice.”

Another, familiar voice rang out from the sky. “What’s going on here?” Everyone turned to look at Hawke. Varric was the only one who didn’t look surprised.

“Release her.” That was... himself? But he didn’t remember any of this. 

“Most Holy called out to you. But...” Cassandra was staring at both him and Hawke with a sort of awe. He had no answers for her. Nor, it seemed, did Hawke. Sensing that they knew nothing, the Seeker continued on, leading them down to the heart of the temple.

 

* * *

 

Hawke pulled her staff off her back and dropped into a battle stance. Maker’s beard. Why didn’t they ever fight anything normal? Fenris had a hand extended toward the rift. He staggered back as it snapped open, and a massive pride demon stepped out. Shit.

Everyone leapt into action at once. Hawke hit the demon with a Fist of the Maker before anyone could even get close to it, then began pelting it with fire attacks. It stumbled, just for a moment, and Fenris closed in with a cry. Cassandra followed, and they started attacking the demon’s legs, barely avoiding each other, while Varric sent bolt after bolt directly into its face. The archers on the walls dared not shoot with fighters in so close.

The demon quickly recovered from Hawke’s initial attack and lashed out with a whip of pure electricity. Solas barely got a barrier up to protect the warriors before it came down. They both cried out and stumbled. Cassandra shook herself and jumped back into the fight, none the worse for wear, and Fenris... 

Fenris was gone. Hawke was so startled she paused in her barrage of attacks. Where was he? It wasn’t uncommon for her to lose sight of him during battle, but never so suddenly. She searched the ground frantically, afraid he had fallen somehow. 

A wavering beam of green light snapped her out of her search. Taking advantage of the demon’s momentary distraction, he had phased around it and was attempting to disrupt its connection to the Fade. That was. . . brilliant.

“Hey, Hawke! You gonna help us fight this demon or stare at the elf all day?”

“Sorry, Varric!” Hawke, embarrassed at her lapse, focused her attention back on the demon. The demon who was now turning toward Fenris. Her eyes narrowed as she sent attack after furious attack at the hulking thing. It never even flinched in its march toward her lover. Fine. Desperate times. . . 

“Solas! Barrier! Cassandra!”

“When?”

“Now!” Hawke hurled a fireball at the demon. Solas’ barrier sprang up a fraction of a second before the flames reached Cassandra. She turned and blinked at Hawke, seemingly a little shell-shocked. 

That got its attention. The demon had turned from Fenris, whose efforts had apparently been interrupted, as he was now fending off a pair of shades. Unfortunately, it had now refocused its attentions on her.

“Umm...” Hawke watched the massive figure approach for a long moment, then took off running. The pride demon followed her, paying no heed to the others attacking its flank. She could tell it was weakening, but it didn’t slow or turn away. She kept running and it kept following, making wide circles around the temple.

“Is this your idea of helping?” Varric yelled as she ran by.

“Nope!” No time for more words. She was getting short of breath. This sprint would have to end soon, hopefully without her being crushed.

Just as Hawke tripped on a rock and stumbled, she heard a loud crack, and the demon fell to its knees. Fenris had managed to disrupt the rift. She stood and caught her breath for a moment as Cassandra stepped back to allow the archers a clean shot. They sent two volleys of arrows toward the creature before it stirred.

The demon staggered back to its feet, but they were ready for it. Acting with a silent coordination they hadn’t managed up to this point, the team seemed to know what to do and when.

Solas directed a strong burst of ice magic at the thing, slowing it down. Varric shot an exploding arrow at its chest as both warriors charged and hacked at the backs of its knees. Hawke stood back, gathering all her remaining mana. 

This would either kill the demon or her. Hawke figured her odds were about even. Solas, either feeling her building power or simply expecting insanity by this point, used what magic he had left to put another barrier around the warriors. 

“Move!” she yelled. Fenris and Cassandra turned to look at each other, then took off in different directions, away from the demon. Hawke released a burst of telekinetic energy, centered in the middle of the pride demon. With a roar and the sizzle of electricity, it exploded.

Thank the Maker it wasn’t a living thing. The demon’s remains vaporized and filtered back to the rift. Hawke sank gratefully to the ground and watched as Fenris reached his hand up to, hopefully, close the Breach. She was shaking, and not just from exhaustion. She hadn’t forgotten Solas’ warning. 

 

* * *

 

That infernal woman would be the death of them all. Fenris didn’t even have time to ensure she was alright. He had to close the rift.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned to face the gaping hole into the Fade. He lifted his hand and found he had begun to expect the strange beam that instantly connected him to the rift. It tugged him, like a cord pulling at his soul. He felt he might be dragged into the Fade at any moment.

This seemed to be taking longer than the others. Surely he had been standing there for hours. As time wore on, the outside world grew more and more fuzzy. He finally felt the end to the connection and snapped his hand back, pulling the rift closed with him.

The last thing he heard was Hawke yelling his name.

 

* * *

 

The next thing he felt was an ache in his back. He groaned and sat up, blinking at the light assaulting his eyes.

“Oh, thank the Maker you’re awake!” Hawke threw her arms around him.

Fenris grunted as the air was suddenly pushed from his lungs. He reached up to pat her arm in affirmation, then gently extracted himself from her grip. 

“Sorry.” She backed up, giving him space to breathe. He had turned toward her and opened his mouth to speak when the door opened suddenly. An elven woman walked in, carrying a small wooden box.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were awake!” the elf cried, cowering from him.

“It is perfectly alright. I only just – “. Fenris was cut off by the woman falling to her knees in the entryway.

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant.” She stood but continued speaking, not giving him a chance to respond. “I’m sure Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, ‘at once’!”

“It is fine. I will speak with her myself.” Fenris turned and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“At once, she said. At once.” The elf ran out the door before either of them could calm her.

“What was that about? Why was she so nervous?” 

Hawke beamed at him. “You’re a hero. Most people would get a little... skittish around the man who saved the entire world.”

“I’m... a what?”

“A hero. You closed the Breach, sort of. It’s not growing anymore. You saved our lives.” At this, her smile turned fond. “Thank you. I know it sucked.” She looked away shyly.

He chuckled and put a hand on her chin, steering her face back toward his. “I would knock myself unconscious closing a thousand rifts if it meant you were safe.”

She laughed aloud, but did not move her face away. “That is the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.” She closed the gap between them, giving him a soft, too-short kiss before standing.

“We’d best go see what the Seeker wants.”

Fenris grabbed her around her waist and pulled, dragging her down on top of him as she laughed. “Perhaps she could wait a little longer.”

Hawke pushed herself back up so she was leaning over him. She was beautiful. Her tunic hung loosely from her body, offering him an excellent view of her body. A lock of hair fell in her face, and he took one arm from her waist to brush it aside. 

He smiled. How grateful he was not to have lost this—to have lost her. She leaned forward and pressed a long kiss to his lips. Then she stood and backed away a couple steps, even as he tried to pull her back to himself.

She laughed again. “I’m not taking the chance that she won’t come bursting through the door. Besides, you just woke up. I want to make sure you’re completely recovered before doing anything... strenuous.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, but smiled. She always worried. “How thoughtful of you. Am I to assume you show this much concern for all your patients?”

“No.” She laughed. “You’re special. Now come on.” Marian grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.

He willingly followed her as she kept hold of his hand, leading him out the door of the small hut where he had awakened. Outside was a throng of people, all of whom murmured to each other as they walked through. Fenris clung a little tighter to Hawke, but stood tall. He would not cower.

The entire trek to the Chantry was the same. People stared at them—at him—in awe. This was far more attention than he wished. He would rather they return to their tasks and ignore him. It was uncomfortable, all this gawking. The last time he had been stared at so openly, there had been a collar about his neck, and his master had been standing nearby, gloating.

Hawke abruptly stopped in front of him, cutting off his rumination as he collided with her, smacking his nose squarely on the back of her head. He stepped back, rubbing his nose with a sour expression. 

They had, for some unknown reason, halted at the bottom of a set of stairs near the tent they had shared their first night in Haven. Hawke spun to face him, eyes wide with either excitement or fear. He could never tell which. “Shhh—” She placed a hand over his mouth.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Hawke looked at him sharply, rebuking him. She repeated her command, and Fenris nodded to placate her. She released him and pointed up the stairs, beaming. He bounced up on his tiptoes to see the cause of what he knew now was clearly excitement.

Was that—Knight-Captain Cullen? Yes, it was. He was standing in front of the Chantry, as if on guard. What was he doing here? Fenris turned back to Hawke, bewildered, to see her gathering her magic. His eyes widened. This would not go well. He almost turned and went back to the little house. He did not wish to be a part of this. 

With a grin, Hawke sent a wave of force magic just over Cullen’s head. It was not strong enough to hurt anything, but did ruffle his hair terribly. The Knight-Captain immediately reached up to fix it, looking about frantically for the source of the commotion.

Fenris stood stock still, staring wide-eyed at the offended party, namely Cullen’s hair. Hawke, however, was rolling on the ground laughing.

“You should have seen your face!” She crowed, tears streaming.

Cullen rolled his eyes and sighed. He had clearly not forgotten Hawke and her antics. After ensuring that nothing else was amiss, the soldier made his way over to them.

“I see your mood has improved, Hawke.” 

Fenris glanced at his lover. Had she been in a foul mood? How long had he been unconscious this time?

Cullen turned to Fenris and nodded to him. He had learned long ago of the elf’s aversion to handshakes. Fenris appreciated his consideration. “It is good to see you are well. Hawke has been almost sullen these past few days.”

At this, Hawke scoffed. “I resent that. I have been perfectly sullen.”

Fenris was at a loss. A few days? How much of his recent past had he missed? Fasta vass. He felt Hawke’s gaze on him. He turned to her, and her expression changed from one of exasperation (probably that he had not laughed at her joke) to concern. She slipped her hand into his and squeezed, saying nothing. 

He squeezed back, reassuring her that he was alright. It was a silent language they had learned while on the run. The first squeeze was the question; the second was an answer. They were so well-practiced at it the Knight-Captain didn’t even notice.

Seeing that no one else would mention it, Fenris finally voiced his confusion. “Why is the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall standing guard over the Chantry of a Fereldan village?”

“Er. . . yes. About that. . .” Cullen cleared his throat nervously. “I am no longer a Templar. I left the order to serve the Inquisition.”

Fenris frowned. That raised more questions than it answered. “What is the Inquisition?”

“Oh!” Hawke practically jumped into the air beside him. “That’s right. You don’t know yet.”

“Know what?”

“It’s why we have to go to the Chantry. They’ll explain when we get there.” Hawke dragged him off in the direction of the village’s largest building before he could even start to ask who ‘they’ were. Strangely, Cullen followed them. This day continued to get more bizzare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this update was so slow. I started classes and a new job simultaneously, and it's taken some time to get used to my new (much busier) schedule. *Fingers crossed* I should be updating more regularly for a while. We'll see.


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